I see you…when the thread unravels…

I see you…when the thread unravels…

I know you

I realize that we may have never actually met in person, but I know you.

I know you because we share the same defeated spirit.  Right now you are wondering if I am fuckin crazy and that’s ok, sometimes I wonder that myself. What I am trying to say is that at some point in our lives we have done too much. We have committed to too many things. At some point in our lives (or maybe multiple times) we have put our needs behind every other person we know. And we are fricken exhausted.

I’m not talking about the can’t move my body because I am so tired exhausted. I mean we are brain weary, I can’t remember what I was going to say let alone why I walked into this room exhausted. Our minds are toast and our soul is screaming for a break. But we don’t give ourselves one because that would lead to feelings of guilt, which would lead to more commitments, which leads to being overwhelmed and the fricken cycle continues and the thread unravels.

The thread unravels

Have you ever tried to thread a needle? Those little needle holes are ridiculous and as you get older it becomes more difficult (I digress). Here’s the thing; if you don’t have the end of the thread bonded together, it begins to unravel. As that thread unravels, each little tiny piece of material becomes it’s own monster and demands attention and before you know it, you have multiple strands everywhere and none are working together.

The only way to fix it is to cut the thread and start again.

Stop. Cut the chords. Start again.

Real Resentment

Additionally, I understand the impromptu anger that comes when you see the dishes on the end table or the socks laying unmatched near the front door. There are times when I think I am the only person who is able to see these items, although I am most assuredly not the one who left them there.

Resentment begins when we feel overwhelmed by the tasks laid before us. Unfortunately, resentment can sneak up on us, even when we are doing things we committed to doing. It isn’t something that we wear proudly, nor is it something we often talk about. I will say it. There are days that I struggle with wishing others would do more so I could do less. Furthermore, I want to stomp my feet and scream at the top of my lungs to “pick up the fuckin socks.” But I don’t and the thread unravels.

Gratitude

For years I didn’t talk about these feelings, as I felt guilty doing so. After experiencing miscarriages and difficult pregnancies, I know what a gift having a baby is. For me, complaining felt like an affront to being a mother. Now I see it differently and realize resentment and gratitude can live together in the same world. When I begin to feel resentful, it is time for me to stop, cut the chords and start again.

It is time to take care of me and ask the family to help out. It’s my job to teach my boys to become independent, not do it all for them. Although sometimes it is so much easier to just do it myself, I realize that isn’t helping any of us. And when everyone begins to pitch in, I feel gratitude overpowering those feelings of resentment.

I see you

So, girl, I see how hard you are working. And recently, I feel as though I have experienced every emotion these past few weeks. Wondering if I am helping my kids make the right decisions… questioning if I am supporting my husband enough… hurting for those around me who are hurting. I have been grateful beyond measure, followed by waves of grief and questioning. Parenting is hard…loving others is hard…watching those you love hurting is hard.

This is for you and hear me as I say this…“You are right where you need to be and you are doing an amazing job. Cut yourself some slack and just be present”. Your expectations of yourself are so much higher than the expectations of those who love you. Say that again and believe it in your soul.
Cindi

 

MOMFAIL – Valentines Boxes

MOMFAIL – Valentines Boxes

As  I am scrolling through FACEBOOK  I see all of these absolutely adorable Valentine’s Boxes for upcoming class parties. Therefore I can’t help but wonder how everyone is getting their kids to participate.  Are all of these other kiddos doing this freely? I have to threaten the removal of favorite objects to get my boys to even pretend to care about their Valentine Day boxes.

MOMFAIL

After literally three days of telling the boys they need to create their boxes, I  taped my It Works boxes together and put them on our kitchen island.  The next day they were still there.  Being proactive, I provided the kids with paper, stickers, colors, markers, letters, and tape.  Ten minutes later they were both finished with their Valentines Boxes and five of that was probably spent wrapping the paper around the box.

After encouraging them, coercing them and pleading with them, I finally gave in.  Feeling a tad disappointed, I released them from the horror.  I let go of the illusion they would be creating masterpieces like all of the other kids in their classes.  Without belittling them, I let them decide how their boxes would look.  While they made sure to cut holes large enough to receive valentines, the outsides are a tad “interesting”.

Perspective on Valentines Boxes

Looking at their boxes while rolling my eyes to my husband, he reminded me of why these boxes were not important to my kids.   “It isn’t a guy holiday,” he said…you can’t make them be interested. (This from the same guy who made sure the kids were included in giving me flowers so they knew how to treat a special woman).  Right then, it hit me.  This isn’t about me.  Their Valentines Boxes are not a reflection of me as a parent any more than my choices are reflections of my own parents.

I was allowing my emotions to interfere with my boy’s priorities.  I was letting the fact that I will be a volunteer in their parties influence MY reactions to their choices.  Consequently, I admit to feeling a tad embarrassed.  How dare I compare my children to others.  How incredibly silly is it that I even put pressure on them to participate in something because of how it would reflect upon me?

No Comparison

Since my boys were little, I have encouraged them to make their own choices.  These two would learn from those decisions that every choice has a consequence.  Some of their choices were amazing while others were definitely learning opportunities.  The things that make my boys different from others are the very things that make me love them even more.  I had always taught them to be different and now when they were, I wanted to force them back to being like others.

My oldest used to wear a stocking hat during the summer.  He was my little Disney Thug and I loved it!  My youngest loved to wear cowboy boots everywhere and I thought it was adorable!  I embraced their individuality!  So why in the world do I care about these Valentines Day boxes?  In conclusion, forgive me, boys…lesson learned.  However, when it comes to homework and schoolwork, that is a totally different arguargument